


Out of the Dark

by morganoconner



Series: Out of the Dark [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't expected to find allies in Purgatory, but if there was one thing Phil was good at, it was making the best of a bad situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> It should be obvious, but just in case anyone is wondering, this fic has absolutely nothing to do with my other crossover verse, [Heartaches and Hellfire](http://archiveofourown.org/series/21068). There will be more of that soon for anyone waiting, I promise.
> 
> In the meantime, you get this, which was written as a gift for bloopfish. ♥

"There has to be a way out of here."

The hunter is growling, pacing back and forth like a caged lion while his friend continues to stare at his hands and jump at every sound and offer nothing in the way of reassurances.

Not that there are many reassurances to be offered in their position, but Phil is surprised the angel isn't even trying. He looks more than spooked; he appears to be terrified, and it's only gotten worse in the several hours Phil has been watching them. He didn't know angels could be broken until now.

These aren't the usual sorts of beings one sees in a place like Purgatory. When Phil first got here – a hard fall after being stabbed in the heart by some form of metal that was every bit as potent as silver – he thought he'd been prepared for anything. But they've managed to surprise him, this human hunter and his holy companion. For one thing, they're still alive, though it remains to be seen how long they can keep that up.

But they haven't been eaten yet, and he thinks that's enough to give them the benefit of the doubt. It isn't like there's anyone else he can ask for help here.

"Dean Winchester," he finally calls, stepping out from his hiding place. He keeps his hands raised where the hunter can see them when his head jerks up. He tries to give an amiable half-smile, but isn't sure if he succeeds.

"Who the fuck are you?" Winchester asks. Phil sees his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for a gun he's just remembered he doesn't have. Next to him, the angel only stares, making no move to speak. Clearly trusting Winchester to handle the problem for them. Phil thinks maybe he knows who this angel must be, if the rumors are true.

"My name is Phil Coulson," Phil says, careful not to make any sudden movements. He realizes he's acting the same way now that he did the first time he met Clint, and he has to swallow back the harsh sound that wells up at the reminder of what he's lost.

"How do you know my name?" Winchester's eyes glint harshly. Even without a weapon at his disposal, Phil knows he's dangerous.

"You have quite a reputation with the shifter population," Phil tells him. "It's to my benefit to keep up with the news, so yes, I've heard of you." His eyes slide over to the angel again. "And I believe that would make you Castiel?"

The angel's eyes dart to Winchester and back again, quick as a lightning strike. "Yes," he says. That's all he says, but Phil nods, gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and looks back to Winchester.

"You're looking for a way out of here. I think I can help you."

The hunter's eyes are cold and distrusting, worse now that he knows what Phil is. Phil wonders what he was expecting. It's Purgatory. Everyone here is a monster of _some_ kind. Even an out-of-practice shapeshifter like himself. "In exchange for what?" Winchester asks, cutting right to the point.

Phil takes a breath and releases it slowly as he lowers his hands. "I can't get out by myself, but I need to get back to someone."

" _Someone?_ " Winchester replies, his tone mocking.

Phil wants to hit him, almost more than he's ever wanted to hit anyone in his life. He keeps his face passive, but Castiel is staring at him with his head tilted and there's no stopping the angel from seeing too deeply, too clearly. "Someone you care about a great deal," Castiel says softly.

Phil shudders, trying to keep the emotions from drowning him. He swallows and finally allows some small part of what he's been feeling for all the days he's been here to show on his face. "My husband."

Winchester blinks. Stares.

 _Ah,_ Phil thinks. _One of those_. He tries not to feel all his hopes being dashed right there. "Is that a problem, Mr. Winchester?"

"Nope," Winchester says, just a split-second too fast for Phil to really believe him. But then he asks, "He human?"

"What?" Phil asks, his train of though now completely derailed.

"Your husband," Winchester says. "Is he human?"

 _Clint._ Phil caresses the name, the memory. Closes his eyes and shudders out a breath and wraps himself in it. "Yes." _Human and warm and he loves me, even though he knows what I am, he loves me anyway, and I didn't even know humans could do that until I met him._

He doesn't say a word of it. The hunter's look tells him that maybe he doesn't need to.

"Would it help if I promise I'm one of the good guys?" he asks, not incredibly hopeful.

Winchester looks to Castiel. "Whaddya think, Cas? Can we trust this guy?"

No eyes should be as piercing as Castiel's are, able to see right down to the deepest, blackest parts of him that he tries to forget exist.

"Yes," Castiel says, and he suddenly smiles so warmly at Phil that it shocks the breath right out of him. "We can."

Phil blinks.

"Well," Winchester says. "Good enough for me. Now tell me about this escape plan of yours."

~

"I thought there weren't supposed to be ways in and out of this place?" Dean – because he's threatened to punch Phil in the face if he 'kept it up with that Mr. Winchester crap' – says, staring at the crudely drawn map on the ground in front of him.

"It's convenient to have people believe that," Phil says, "because Heaven and Hell and even humanity have a way of meddling in things better left alone." He gives Dean and Castiel both a very pointed look. "But it's simple logic. How would the monsters get in if there wasn't a doorway somewhere?"

"Huh." Dean looks at the map again, eyes tracking over every line in the dirt. "Right, makes sense. Doors hafta open from both sides."

He misses Phil's wince, the way his muscles lock up tight at the echo of Clint's voice over the video feed that night. "Yes," he says, very quietly. "Yes they do."

~

Dean has a knife that he'd kept in his boot during whatever fight brought him to this place, and Castiel is…well, Castiel. As weapons go, it's not much, but Dean is also able to fashion a crude-looking spear with his blade, and that will be helpful.

"What about you?" the hunter asks, eyeing Phil up and down with a smirk. Like he's nothing but a suit-wearing paper-pusher even though he knows better.

Phil walks back to his earlier hiding space and brushes the leaves aside, revealing his hand-made bow and the leaf-woven sling full of arrows. "I won't be completely useless," he promises.

Dean almost looks impressed. "You can shoot that thing?"

"I was taught," Phil says shortly. The ache isn't as bad this time, thinking of Clint. Maybe it's because he knows (prays) he'll see him soon. Maybe just because there's finally a chance. "I'm no expert marksman, but I can hit a target."

"Awesome."

Phil nods. "Monsters are different here than they are up there. Their strengths, their weaknesses…none of that matters in Purgatory. Some monsters are bigger than others, sure. But here, if you hit them, it doesn't matter what you hit them with. They all still bleed."

"But they can't die. Again. Obviously." The hunter's eyes dart around, looking for an escape that doesn't exist.

"Unfortunately not," Phil replies. "But you can at least hurt them for long enough to get away. Purgatory is…like a never-ending game of tag, except a lot more painful."

"We never played tag," Dean mutters. "Knew there was a goddamn reason me and Sammy never played tag."

Castiel looks between them, head tilted. "What is 'tag'?" he asks.

Phil offers him a small smile. "Why don't I tell you about it on the way?" He glances at Dean. "I'd like to get out of here sooner rather than later."

"Amen to that," Dean says. "Cas?"

"I'm ready." Castiel nods like he's reassuring himself, but Phil's gotten to know him a little now, and he thinks the angel will be all right. He's starting to think they all will be.

Hope is a dangerous substance, but that's not stopping him from having it.

 _Clint,_ he thinks, slinging his bow and makeshift quiver over his shoulder. _I'll be home soon. I swear it._

And with the hunter and the angel at his side, he sets off to make the promise a reality.

**Author's Note:**

> If it hasn't become obvious already, I have a _thing_ for creature!boys. I make no apologies.


End file.
